


Welcome to Night Vale: Strex Begins Part 2

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:47:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: The conclusion to the Strex takeover!





	Welcome to Night Vale: Strex Begins Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to do a part 2 after all and wrap it up.

He was lost in a world of darkness. The shadows leapt at him with gleaming smiles, eyes surrounding him as he struggled to run. Stuck in place, why was he stuck in place? Then a path, a path out of nowhere. He tripped on the roots, pushing through spiny branches that spawned out of nowhere. He stumbled and suddenly there he was, standing in a perfectly circular ring of stones.   
He sucked in a breath, eyes narrowed as he took him in. He wanted him so badly. That dark, windswept hair. Those deep brown eyes took him in, threatened to drown out his senses. He ignored the nagging in his mind, the hint of caution holding him back and ran to him, staggering backwards as his eyes glowed red through the dark and a hand tightened around his neck.  
He jerked awake, biting back the shout that was forming in his throat, flinching at the still sore pain in his side. Not as bad as it had been. Not really as bad as the pain pulsing through him with every beat of his heart.   
“Cecil Palmer, you sit your butt back down right now.” Josie walked into the room just as he pushed himself out of bed, leaning against the wall. He recognized the room, the spare one at Josie’s, in case her family decided to visit. They never did.   
“How long was I asleep?” He asked, ignoring her orders. Her eyes narrowed.   
“Three days. Let me tell you, you had me worried there for a moment. I’m too old to be taking care of youngsters like you.” She grumbled, and Cecil stopped in shock.   
“Three days?” He asked incredulously, and she raised an eyebrow.   
“You got stabbed in the side. How long you think it takes for that to normally heal? You’re lucky you’re on good terms with the angels, or you’d be dead. What were you thinking?” She asked scoldingly, and Cecil shook his head.   
“I wasn’t.” He sighed, something in his voice breaking, and Josie’s gaze softened.  
“I need to know what’s happened since then. Strex wouldn’t just sit around. He wouldn’t just sit around.” Cecil said, voice hard. She sat down on the bed, patting the seat beside her.   
“They’ve taken over the radio station, that Kevin is running it now with help from Lauren. She’s taken over most of the local businesses. Strange doors are appearing, letting out this blinding light, and most of the citizens have been corralled in mission grove park at an endless company picnic. Tamika Flynn is fighting them with her summer reading club. Oh, and your phone’s been ringing.” She finished, standing, heading towards the door.  
“Josie,” She stopped and looked back, knowing what he was going to ask, “Carlos?” She shook her head, a flash of fear and disappointment flickering across his face.   
“I haven’t heard anything about him or what he’s doing. He’s keeping a low profile. Far as I can tell he’s locked up in his lab somewhere.” With that she was gone, leaving Cecil to his thoughts.  
He flipped open his phone absentmindedly, double checking the number before calling it, waiting anxiously as the phone rang. And rang. And-  
“Hello? Cecil? Is that you?” He let out a relieved gasp of laughter, cradling the phone against his ear.   
“Dana! I thought you were dead! Where are you?” He asked anxiously. She was only an intern, but he rather liked Dana. She’d lasted longer than most of the other interns, and was a genuinely good and curious person.   
“Well that’s the strange thing. I got trapped in the dog park, right? But we walked and walked, and now I’m in some strange desert otherworld. There’s a lighthouse, and a race of tall warrior people, who were scary at first, but are actually quite kind and understanding. But the thing is, I think I found a way back! There are these oak doors appearing randomly, and they seem to lead back to Night Vale!” She exclaimed, and his stomach sank as he explained what was going on.   
“What!? And you were worried about me? What are you going to do?” She asked after he filled her in, and he frowned for a moment, thinking.   
“I’ve got to find Tamika. We need to fight against Strex. The only way to beat them is to work together. No one hurts my friends, and no one takes away my community.” Cecil said finally, voice cold as he stood, ignoring the ache.   
“Cecil . . . are you ok?” She asked, and he let out a soft chuckle.   
“Not nearly.” With a flick of his wrist he snapped closed the phone and headed out the door. He knew where Tamika would hide. The only place no one else would dare to go, not even Strex. The most dangerous place in the entire town. The best training ground there was for scouts and clever, clever girls. The Library.   
Carlos was pacing. He hadn’t stopped pacing, really. He’d stormed out of the radio station and driven back to Night Vale, car windows open as he roared down the highway, music blaring.   
He’d slammed the door and gone to the lab, ignoring his assistants who asked him about this or that experiment, past the table of a startling noise machine, which didn’t even make him jump as he slammed his office door shut behind him, locking it. He’d punched the wall, bruising his knuckles until they were red and raw, shoving aside the papers on his desk as he bandaged his hands, cursing.   
He couldn’t stop moving. He didn’t know why. There was an energy building up inside him that made him feel like he was about to explode, the rage and confusion and somehow, somehow, sorrow building up in him like a tidal wave.   
Memories. Were they his memories? How could they be. He’d lived in Desert Bluffs for so long, for years, hadn’t he? A family, had he had one? He remembered something, something on the tip of his tongue, but it vanished every time he was about to touch it.   
People with smiling eyes who looked like him, a younger girl hugging him, holding his hand as they walked to school, chattering up at him happily, with a smile that sparkled in her eyes instead of stretching to them.   
He remembered pain. Agonizing and twisted pain. Pain that made him scream and cry until his voice was raw and throat tasted like copper. Smiling faces smeared with a dark substance, blood, his blood, until his smile mimicked theirs. Until his eyes emptied like theirs. Until the smiling god was the only god until happy was all that mattered, productiveness was all that mattered.   
Wrong, wrong, it was all wrong, what was it, what was it, what was it? It was driving him mad. He was clutching his head and his vision was blurry. Tears. He was crying, why was he crying?   
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. The last time he hurt, the last time he felt so confused, he was a scientist, he was never confused. He was the one who knew everything, could explain anything. What was it, what was it what was it?   
He roared in anger, in pain, in rage, in confusion, in loss, in sorrow and sadness and heaved over his desk, sending the papers flying and cracking the wood, the crash shaking the floor near him.   
He stilled, sobbing, looking at his hands like he’d never seen them before. This wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t suave and sweet and a killer. He was just someone who’d wanted to understand. He wasn’t Strex. He wasn’t Desert Bluffs. He was just himself. Just Carlos.   
They’d made him a monster. He remembered it now, remembered it clearly. All that they’d done to him. They’d broken his mind, broken his soul until he couldn’t feel, could only follow orders and do as he thought he wanted. He wasn’t in control. He’d never been the one in control.   
He took a deep, shuddering breath. His head felt clear for the first time in however long he’d been stuck in this place, and the way forward was clear. Cecil. His heart shuddered at the thought.   
Oh god Cecil. What had he done? He was probably dead. He couldn’t be dead. He needed him to not be dead. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he loved him. He realized that now, now that he felt fully himself again. He loved the way Cecil looked at him, the way Cecil cared so deeply about everyone around him, how he was so willing to put himself at risk as long it saved others.   
He had to find him. And he had to do it without Lauren knowing.

He’d snuck out the back door like a disobedient child while Josie was busy with the angels. He’d dodged through the scrublands, avoiding the watchful eyes of helicopters as he made his way slowly and carefully to the library.  
He stood staring at the glass front doors and stone façade for a long moment. He had no supplies, no weapons, and not enough strength to fight one off even if he’d had the tools. The angels had healed him as best they could, but it still pulsed with pain to his heartbeat.  
He took a breath and pushed open the doors. It was strange. He should be feeling afraid or terrified, even a sense of anticipation or excitement at his own daring. But he felt numb. He didn’t feel anything but a coldness seeping into him from his shattered heart.   
The library was deathly quiet. It was the sound of things lurking just out of sight, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. He didn’t care. He didn’t sneak or stealth. He walked down the middle of the aisles, through the deadly open sitting areas. Past the history section and the biographies.  
He made it up to the second floor, walking through the forbidden technologies section when he felt a sharp prick against his back.   
“You’re either crazy or have a death wish to be strolling around here like that.” A young, feminine voice stated coldly. He slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.   
“I’m looking for Tamika.” He replied calmly, voice flat.   
“Yeah, a lot of people are. What makes you different from them?” She asked sarcastically. He let out a soft chuckle.   
“She’s the leader. Why not let her decide?” he said reasonably, and he could practically hear her scowl.  
“Fine. No funny business. You try and run, I’m not responsible for what happens. Now move.” She guided him through the halls, much more cautiously than he’d been moving. They heard occasional roars out in the darkness, the screams of librarians hunting.   
Finally, they reached a door, faded colored lettering above it reading “Summer Reading Program.” She reached around him and opened it, shoving him through roughly, sending him to his knees.   
She walked around him with a glare, approaching the table at the far end of the room, really just a couple piles of books with a chalkboard balanced on top. The girl had blond hair and green eyes, a makeshift spear in her hand.   
“Tamika. Found him wandering around alone, out in the open. Insisted he needed to find you.” She stated officially, and the curly haired, dark skinned young woman looked up from the reports she was reading on the table. A look of concern crossed her face as she looked up sharply, followed by a smile and a relieved laugh when she saw the prisoner.   
“Cecil? Where have you been? We thought you’d been taken by Strex. Georgia, help that man up. Excuse her manners, we’re all a bit high strung at the moment.” She said as Georgia helped him up, muttering an apology before leaving the room.   
“Cecil . . . are you alright?” She asked, looking him over critically. His face was pale except for his cheeks, which looked flushed with heat, and something about his eyes . . . they were cold and distant, so unlike him.   
“No. It doesn’t matter, I don’t want to explain it again. Dana’s in a desert otherworld. I can contact her and she’s got warriors that will help us. Josie has the angels. And you have the army. I can reach the citizens but I need to get into the radio station. I can coordinate everything if you can plan it.” He said matter of factly. She bit her lip but nodded. She didn’t want to press him. Not now, anyways.   
“Alright. Let’s get this done.” 

Carlos had a dilemma. If he knew anything, he knew that Cecil would find his way back to the radio station. He’d find a way to sneak in or take it by force, he’d do whatever he had to, to get in. He could wait for him. But, it would be so much easier to get in with his help. Or maybe . . . he could clear it out for them.   
He stalked out of the labs, once again ignoring glances and questions from his assistants, who exchanged worried looks behind his back. With a flick of his coat he was out the door, heading to the station.  
It was fairly empty. They weren’t broadcasting from there today, they were too busy at the company picnic, as they were calling it. They had left Roger, their tech, as security in case Cecil showed up. After some casual conversation he offered to take his place, give him a break, and Roger practically ran out of the building, he was so bored.   
Slowly, he made his way to the recording studio. He’d been in here a few times, but he’d never really looked at it. The desk was well worn, but taken care of. Cecil’s old school mic was tucked away in a drawer, surprisingly heavy in his hands. It had history to it. In one of the other drawers, he found a photo. There was a man smiling happily standing next to a blond-haired woman. Between them was a happy, brown haired girl, sitting in a wheel chair. His niece, he remembered.   
He jumped as a flash of blindingly dark light flooded the room, leaving him blinded and blinking for a few moments, as his vision slowly returned. Before he could see fully he was thrown against a wall, something sharp against his neck.   
“Tell me this instant why I shouldn’t end you right now after what you did to him?” A female voice murmured in his ear. He knew that voice, from recordings and briefings.   
“Tamika. I thought you were captured.” He said, and she hissed out a laugh.   
“It takes a lot more than a few helicopters to track me down. Why are you here? Waiting for him?” She asked, voice cold.   
“No, it’s not like that. I don’t have any excuse for what I did. I just want to talk to him.” He pleaded, vision finally clearing as Cecil stepped forward from the shadows of the room, looking flushed and eyes cold.   
“Then talk.” He said softly, emptily, and Tamika backed away with a scowl, taking a watchful seat on the desk.   
“You told me to find you if I changed my mind. Well, my mind was always made up. It was Strex that changed it. You were right Cecil, right about everything. They hurt people to make them do what they want, break them down until they forget who they are. I remember it now. I remember all of it now. I don’t know who I am anymore. I have these two different people in my head and it’s like they’re fighting for control, fighting to make me listen to them and the only thing, the only thing that snapped me out of it was you. Was . . . hurting . . . you. Because the only thing that could break their conditioning was making me kill what I loved. I thought I had killed you Cecil. I don’t know what I would do if I killed you. I just want to be happy. I want it to stop. I want the voices to stop.”   
He was crying and staring at the ground, ashamed of himself. He wished he’d never come back, wished he’d wandered into the desert to die, wished he’d ended it the moment he’d arrived in Desert Bluffs.   
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came here, I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I ruined everything, I’m sorry I let them take over, I’m sorry.” He whispered, soft footsteps making their way slowly across the room to him.  
He looked up, right into Cecil’s eyes. There was a strange look on his face, a hope almost painful in nature. His own eyes were wet and wide as he shook his head and looked away.   
“I don’t know what I meant to do, coming here, I don’t deserve to be forgiven. They won’t come looking for you here, not until you start broadcasting, anyways. I don’t know what your plan is and I won’t tell them anything.” He turned to leave, stopping as he felt a hand gently grab his wrist, Cecil turning him back around to face him.   
“I believe you. When they control you, your eyes change. You’re smile widens. Your voice becomes cold. Right now, looking at you . . . this is you. This is you. Not what they made you, not what they say you are. This is you. And I love you, Carlos. I love you.” He stepped close, hand against Carlos’s heart as he leaned in, kissing him softly and deeply.  
He pulled back as Tamika cleared her throat. A hesitant smile formed through Carlos’s tears, and Cecil was blushing slightly, eyes bright once again. Even Tamika couldn’t fully withhold a smile.   
“Should we get this going, or what?” She asked, and Carlos cleared his throat.   
“I already hooked up your mic. I thought . . . you’d want to use it. Instead of theirs.” He said, and Cecil turned to his desk, eyes flashing as he shooed Tamika off.   
He sat down, adjusted his mic, using his portable setup to adjust the volume as Tamika headed out to lead her forces. She’d only come along to make sure that it was safe. He put on his headphones, flicked a switch, and took a deep breath.   
“People of Night Vale,” He began, voice powerful and strong, blazing in a way that gave his words physical force. “With the help of the Erika’s, and a few friends, I am back in the studio. We have barricaded ourselves in and will not stop this broadcast until Strex is cast out of our town! Even now, our allies gather. The brave Tamika Flynn and her army of book wielding children have taken to the sky in their stolen helicopters, which they’ve taught themselves to pilot. Station Intern Dana Cardinal leads forces from beyond the dog park. The angels, and they are angels, gather and prepare to smite our enemies with their holy power. But still we cannot win, not without one more host to add to our strange and wonderful army. I beg you, listeners to rise up against the Strex employees holding you captive at their company picnic. We can overcome this if we all work together. Look to your friends, your neighbors, your family. Join arms with them, stand with them, and TAKE DOWN STREX! As always, I am Cecil Palmer, reporting it all from the Night Vale Community Radio Station.” He finished, taking off his headphones.   
“Do you think it’ll work?” Carlos asked, hovering awkwardly against the wall. Cecil flashed him a grin.   
“If it doesn’t, I don’t know what else we’ll do. We still have to get rid of the doors at the end of all this.” He said tiredly, leaning back in his chair. He felt like all of Night Vale rested on his shoulders. He’d acted so confident, but he didn’t know what he was doing. He’d always been an observer, passive, he’d never taken a leadership role.  
“Cecil. You’re not alright, are you?” He asked, stepping forwards and feeling his forehead. He felt hot as a furnace.   
“You’re burning up. You need help.” He said worriedly, and Cecil shook his head.   
“I can’t leave until this is over. I’m keeping the channels of communication open between Dana and Tamika, and to the citizens. They can talk to them. If we don’t win, we’re done for anyway.” He said bleakly, smiling sadly.   
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” They both jumped at the voice, Cecil jumping to his feet, Carlos spinning on his heel, jacket flashing as he held out his arms, keeping Cecil behind him and as concealed as possible.  
Kevin was standing there, smile huge and wide. Eyes bright in the light streaming from the old oak door open behind him. His shirt was bloody as he stared them down.   
“No. I won’t let you hurt him again.” Carlos growled, dark eyes flashing.   
“I’m not the one who hurt him, now am I? That was all you. You made the call. You wielded the knife. And it doesn’t seem like Cecil back there is doing too well. Might as well put him out of his misery.” He said lowly, and Carlos clutched his head, doubling over.  
It was like an endless vortex of noise. Noise that wouldn’t stop, that filled his head, that drowned out his thoughts. He couldn’t think through the voices, couldn’t see through the red in his vision.  
“Don’t you want to end this Carlos? Don’t you want to smile again?” That voice cut through everything, cut through him like a knife. He didn’t want to listen, he couldn’t listen. He felt himself rising, felt himself getting to his feet, moving mechanically. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want to.   
“no. I won’t . . .” He gasped out, vision flickering for a moment, just a moment, and Cecil could see the chocolate of his eyes fighting against the red that threatened to overwhelm him.   
“But you will. Because you’re ours.” Kevin replied, eyes narrowing. Carlos’s fists clenched as he turned robotically towards Cecil, face pained and struggling. He was shaking his head, eyes desperate.   
“It’s ok Carlos. This isn’t you, and I know it. I love you Carlos, and I forgive you. For whatever he makes you do.” Cecil said evenly, eyes tired and broken, like he knew this was the end.   
Carlos felt like his brain was on fire. He couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t hear all of it. It felt like he was being torn apart.   
“Do it. You said it yourself, you are Strex.” The voice in his mind, the him that wasn’t him, implored, and he felt himself draw a knife out from his pocket. He hadn’t even known it was there.  
“I can’t. I won’t, I can’t.”   
“They gave you a purpose. They gave you a life! When you were alone and confused, they saved you. Do it.” The voice in his head ordered, pushing him so hard he was shaking, shaking trying not to raise the knife in his hand to Cecil’s throat.   
“Please. Please stop me. Please kill me instead Cecil.” He whispered, feeling the knife prick against the skin of Cecil’s neck. He felt him swallow.   
“Carlos. I can’t do anything. I’m running on fumes.” He replied, so evenly, too evenly.   
“Strex is your home. Kill him for Strex.” The voice in his head pushed, and it was like an explosion went off in his head. Suddenly he was filled with light, chasing away the dark of the voice, chasing away the dark of Strex, the monster they made him into.   
“No. Strex was never my home. My home is here. My home is Cecil!” He screamed, and faster than he could think he spun, throwing the knife at Kevin. It landed squarely in his chest, his shocked face staring back at him for what seemed like an eternity before he fell backwards into the light, door slamming shut behind him, vanishing.  
He’d fallen to his knees. His head was in his hands and he was shaking, sobbing, stunned. He played the moment back in his mind over and over and over, seeing the knife cut into his throat, seeing the blood spray from the wound, seeing Cecil’s beautiful eyes glass over as he fell to the ground. He was so close, so close, so close, so close.   
“Carlos. Shh, Carlos. You did it. You did it.” He slowly came back to himself, rising out of the darkness of his mind, the flashes of terror pulsing through him. The flashes of images slowly stopping, though he knew he’d see them again in his nightmares.   
“I can’t stay here. I almost killed you. Just with his words, I almost killed you.” He whispered, dark hair hanging over his face, unable to stop shaking, even as he felt Cecil crouch down beside him, wrapping his arms around him, head resting on his shoulder.   
“But you didn’t. Carlos,” He said tenderly, pushing his hair out of his face, taking Cecil’s hands in his, “Look at me. We’re both still here. Night Vale is still here. We did it, and we did it together. I couldn’t have stopped Kevin. You saved me Carlos.” He said seriously, wiping away Carlos’s tears. Carlos let out a laughing sob.   
“That’s funny. I would never have left it weren’t for you. The way I see it, you saved me.” He choked out, breathing starting to steady as he gazed back into Cecil’s eyes, feeling his heart swell. He loved him.   
He leaned forward, feeling Cecil’s soft lips on his, salty with tears. They finally pulled away after a long moment, Carlos resting his forehead against Cecil’s, eyes bright and smile starting to show as they caught their breath.   
“That’s the Carlos I love. Look at those eyes.” He said softly, slumping against Carlos as he fell unconscious.   
He swore. He’d known Cecil was sick, that he hadn’t let himself heal enough, but he didn’t think it was this bad. Panicking his mind raced, what was the fastest way to the hospital, to anywhere? His eyes flashed as he remembered what Cecil had done last time.  
“Erika!? I need help, Cecil needs help, now!”   
He woke up slowly. No dreams, no nightmares, just the chirping of morning birds streaming in from outside. He blinked open his eyes slowly, realizing he was in bed, home.   
He rolled over, brow furrowing as he saw Carlos asleep in a chair next to the bed, head resting at what looked like an uncomfortable angle, whimpering slightly in his sleep.   
“Carlos?” He called out, reaching out to him. He startled awake, blinking as his vision settled on Cecil, a grin spreading as he stretched.   
“You had me really worried for a moment. You passed out and I used our angel delivery service to drop us off at the hospital. Turns out you just needed some antibiotics to help bring your fever down and some rest.” He answered to Cecil’s unspoken question.   
“I’ve been taking care of you, since it’s my fault in the first place.” He said with a sigh, running his hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as waves of memories suddenly washed over him, flashes of red and pain and-  
“Carlos.” Cecil’s voice cut through it all, and he opened his eyes, shaken out of it. Cecil was looking at him intensely.  
“I’m not the only one who needs rest. Come here.” He said softly, and Carlos smiled shyly, sliding under the covers and snuggling close to Cecil, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly.   
He let out a shaky breath. Laying there, feeling Cecil’s hand in his, holding him tightly, he knew that tonight, at least, he’d sleep well.


End file.
